SAA Ep. #35: One of the Guys

I had two best friends in kindergarten.  Their names were Michael and David.  Now, David moved away the summer after kindergarten, which is unfortunate, because according to my parents, I was going to marry one of them (Michael was out of the question because it was later discovered that he had "the cooties").  So thanks a lot for moving away, David.  Now I'm a spinster with a shriveling womb happily single.

Yeah, so, apparently, I talked about Michael and David nonstop.  They were my friends.  My buddies.  Mis amigos.  We did everything together.  It only got awkward a few times--like that Halloween, when I had the audacity to dress up like a GROSS My Little Pony.  That was almost enough to ruin our friendship.  That and the time I did a chalk picture of a rainbow with pretty little butterflies...but I digress.

For most of my life, I've gotten along better with guys than I have with other girls.  I'm not exactly sure why this is.  I don't really consider myself more masculine than other girls (although I did opt for taking Woodshop in high school instead of Home Ec Life Skills--that was actually a mistake, because now I think Life Skills would be more useful than knowing how to make a wooden race car--which I actually kind of sucked at) but I do know that I have a guy sense of humor.  I know this from years of experience of watching funny movies in mixed company.  The scenes I find funny are the scenes the guys find funny.  The scenes the other girls find funny aren't really all that funny to me.  And by the way, I'd rather watch a movie with a gazillion explody things than a chick flick.  I generally can't stand chick flicks.  There are a few I like, but only one that I LOVE (While You Were Sleeping).  The rest make me want to punch a baby unicorn.

I also like to punch things.  Or talk about punching things.  Same difference.  Unless you're my friend Amos.

And I've only had one boyfriend...ever...(probably because I punch things) and that wasn't until I was in my mid twenties.  That's not because I don't like guys.  I'm not exactly sure why guys never seemed to want to date me.  In fact, I'm not even exactly sure if guys didn't want to date me.  I have some kind of problem where I can't tell when a guy is hitting on me unless he is being VERY clear.  I look back on times in my high school years where guys were definitely asking me out, and I innocently thought they were just kidding around.  So I joked back and inadvertently rejected them.  Aww.  Now, there were other guys I knowingly rejected because they were clear enough to say, "I AM ACTUALLY ASKING YOU OUT, HERE" and I told them no...because they had "the cooties." 

But I do remember the first true female best friend I had.  She was at the first college I attended.  We did pretty much everything together.  Well, she and I were walking somewhere, and one of our mutual guy friends came up to us.  He ranted and raved about how great she looked.  He gave her a huge hug.  Then he said, "Hey, Ruth" as if it were an afterthought--which it probably was.  And I called him on it by saying, "So you give her all this attention and all I get is a 'Hey, Ruth'?"  I'll never forget his reply.  If you are a guy and are reading this (Amos), then pay attention.  You never.  Ever.  EVER. say this to a girl.  EVER.

He said, "Aw, come on.  You're just one of the guys."

I didn't punch him...but I thought about it.

It wasn't until I transferred to my second college that I came into a great group of guy friends who seemed to understand that females need to be treated like ladies.  That was a nice change from what I had been used to all my life.  But I still liked being around guy friends more than girls.

And it's really awkward these days because the older I get, the less single guy friends there seem to be.  I do have a few, but even they are all dropping like flies by getting engaged or entering into serious relationships with some of my female friends.  Funny how that happens to everyone besides me--but it's okay, because if any of them hit on me, I'd punch them in the face (that means YOU, Amos). 

And I really don't mind being friends with couples, but there are boundaries there that I completely agree with (such as, try not to be alone with a man who's married to someone who isn't you).  If I'm friends with the guy, then I'm gonna have to be friends with his wife.  So I have to be friends with the whole couple.  I'm not complaining so much as just stating how weird it all is to me who is still in that "It would be nice to go hang out with a group of guys" frame of mind.  At my age, there don't seem to be any groups of guys left for me to hang out with--unless I wanted to crash the men's conference at church.  I...uh...don't think that would be cool.  But I  know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I would like it better than a women's conference.  I can't even walk past the decorations for those things.  Doily tablecloths and flowers make me angry.  GRR.

But yeah, I guess I'm pretty blessed at this stage of my life to have a lot of couples who don't mind me third-wheeling their marriages from time to time....

Well, it's been about fifteen minutes since I punched something, so I'd better cut this blog short and go find me a baby unicorn.

SAA Ep. # 19: Helpful, too Late

I'm not the most helpful person in the world, but I do like to help people out when there's something I can do. There are times, however, when I am just not as helpful as I might be.

Sometimes I get a case of the lazies and tell my friends I can't help them move because I'm tired. Now, this is truthful, but I'm not so tired that I can't help out. I'm basically being a lazy, no good friend.

Sometimes, I'm more than willing to help out, but I have to work when they need me. This is frustrating, but it kind of comes with the whole "working three jobs" territory. Chances are, if you call me last minute, I'm not going to be able to help.

Other times, people ask me to help out with stuff when I'm not the best person for the job. "Hey, Ruth, I could really use some help with my calculus homework." "Hey, random person with calculus homework, I'm not your guy. How 'bout letting me edit your English paper, though, eh?"

Then there's the situations like the one that occurred last night:

My friends and I are all standing in the foyer at church, just chatting. All of the sudden, out of the blue, and completely without warning (I think this might be a little too dramatic for this blog), a white minivan pulls up under the overhead awning thingy. Actually, I'm not sure if it's called an awning. Is it a parapet? A canopy? I'm not sure. It's the little thingy people drive under when unloading their kids.

And sure enough, one of my friends hops out of the car and starts going through the difficult process of unloading her kids. She has four of them, one of which is still a baby, and the oldest is about 6. So my friends and I were watching her, talking about how great she is with all her kids. We talked about how cute her kids are. We talked about how much we love her family.

Then, after about 3 minutes of watching this awesome mommy unload her four kids from the van, I was struck with a brilliant idea. "Maybe we should go out there and help her."

By the time I've thought of this, the mom entered the church with four kids in tow. It's not that I didn't want to be helpful, but for some reason, it just occurred to me to be helpul...a little too late.

I kinda sorta redeemed myself by watching her kids while she went to park the van, but *shrug*, I blew it.

Things like this happen to me all the time--probably because I'm not as considerate as I might be. I'm not sure if that's a symptom of the social awkwardness, or if it's just a symptom of good ol' fashioned human stupidity.

There are times when my roommate starts bringing in armloads of groceries. After her third trip, I get the bright idea to help her, just in time for her to say, "Oh, that was the last load." I offer to help the lead teacher in the preschool classroom where I teach, as she is cutting out stacks of construction paper butterflies. I ask her just as she is cutting the last one.

It just doesn't occur to me to help until it's too late. Maybe I need to be more like this one ultra observant and considerate roommate I had in college, who would hand me one of her post-it notes or pencils before I was able to grab one of my own from my desk. Wait...no...she was really annoying, actually. Helpful, but annoyingly so.

But it's my own fault I got that roommate, because after a less than satisfactory experience with a roommate who was extremely inconsiderate, I spent the summer praying: "Dear Lord, please give me a considerate roommate. That's all I want. I just want her to be considerate."

God does have a sense of humor.

I got a roommate. I got a considerate roommate. She was so considerate it drove me nuts. One night I remember shouting at her, "Why do you have to be so stinkin' considerate all the time?"

She thought I was crazy, and maybe I am.